“She didn’t hurt me,” I say. “She didn’t even threaten me. She just acted sketchy. She even gave me a gift.”
“You didn’t take it, did you?” Kale asks.
“Tell me you didn’t,” Haven says.
“She took it,” Yorn says, shaking his head like I’m just that predictably stupid.
“It’s just a comb,” I say, slipping it from my pocket.
“Just watch, she’ll want something from you now,” Haven says. “One hundred percent guaranteed. She’ll be back within the week, asking for something in return. You never take a gift from an evil queen. Now you owe her.”
“I don’t owe her,” I say. “It’s an heirloom, passed down from her mother. And like she said, I’m no threat to her now.”
“Maybe she really does want to be your mother now,” Xela says with a sympathetic smile.
“Be careful,” Kale says, frowning at me. He puts his hand on my knee, his big sad eyes meeting mine.
“I was careful,” I say, annoyed. I move my knee away from his hand, ignoring his wounded look. “It’s just a comb. I have nothing she could want. This is literally the only thing I own. And I like it, so I’m keeping it.”
“Suit yourself,” Haven says with a shrug. “No one’s trying to take it away from you.”
“Not like you’d tell her if you were,” Yorn mutters.
“What?” Haven asks, looking stunned. “I never took anything from you.”
“Not from me,” Yorn grunts.
“From who?” she asks, her eyes narrowing. “Xela? Uzula? Kale? Have I ever laid a finger on anything you owned?”
A chorus of no’s answers her. I am reminded, as I often am, how I don’t exactly belong here, either. They all know each other so well, and I don’t. I am grateful for their friendship, but aware that I’m still an outsider, as I was at my mother’s. The only place I really belong is with my father, in the shifter valley, but I’m not ready to forgive him yet.
After a bit of grumbling, the group falls silent. Everyone goes back to their nests as soon as dinner is over, not lingering to tell stories or gossip as they usually do.
*
A light snow dusts the ground when I wake up the next day. I pull on my mother’s boots, which are a size too small for Haven. Now I know why Mother always wore these work boots—they are comfortable and protective against the sharp rocks hidden under leaves in the forest. But they’re not equipped for tromping around in the snow, and as I wander looking for edibles, kindling, and firewood, wetness seeps into them. Soon, my toes are damp and aching with cold. To distract myself, I start humming the tune to a song Dad used to sing when I was growing up. The others were right—I totally hum to myself. I’ve been more careful not to do that since they made fun of me.
But a second later, it seems to gain a tinkling, musical note. I don’t sound half bad. I stop singing and cock my head, listening. I only hear the pure, sweet note echoing. Cautiously, I begin again. This time, I hear it clearly, a voice accompanying my humming. It even makes up for my deficiencies by stretching the notes out in a pleasing way, leading me back to the correct note.
I go on another minute, so pleased by our strange harmony that I let it carry me away. When I come to my senses, my head snaps up and I listen, my heart hammering, as the sweet note echoes through the barren woods. When I look up, I see that same auburn-haired girl who haunts my nightmares, stealing my second nature away after only a taste of what it was like. This time, she’s not getting away.
She catches my eye, and for a heartbeat, neither of us move. She looks as startled as I am, as if she didn’t notice she was singing along with another person. In one hand, she holds a cloth sack, and she’s wearing clothes for once. This is my chance. Before she can escape, I leap after her. At my sudden movement, she turns and runs. But for once, I’m faster and stronger than someone. I catch up to her in a minute, after slipping on the snow-slick leaves a dozen times. I grab the back of her sweater and push her to the ground, keeping my hands tight on her shoulders so I can grasp whatever animal she turns into if she tries to escape that way again.
“Who are you, and what did you do with my tiger?” I ask, pressing her face into the snow and leaves.
“Let me go,” she shrieks, twisting under me. I raise myself enough to flip her onto her back, then pin her shoulders again.
“Give me back my shifting,” I growl.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, spitting snow at me.
“You put some kind of spell on me,” I remind her. “I was a tiger, and now I can’t shift. What did you do to me?”
“Oh, that,” she says, scowling up at me. She has fair, flawless skin, and her hair looks more red than brown against the snow. She’s about my age, but definitely not used to working hard like most people around here, if her waifish presence under me is any indication.
“Yes, that,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Whatever you did, undo it.”
“I can’t,” she says simply.
“What? Why not?”
“Because,” she says. “I’m the shifter heir, not you.”
I pull back a little, cocking my head to peer down at her. “What do you mean, you’re the shifter heir?”
“I’m the true heir,” she says, her chin rising and a stubborn set tightening her pink mouth.
“Okay, cool, because I have no intention of challenging you for that spot,” I say. “I’m not the heir to anything, and I don’t want to be. I just want to be a tiger.”
“That’s what she said you’d say.”
“Who is she?” I ask. “My mother?”
“No,” she says, looking at me like I’m nuts. “Mother Dear. My mother.”
“Who’s your mother?” I ask, remembering my mother wandering around in the field next to the lighthouse, and how weird she acted. Was she visiting this girl? Feeling guilty about hiding it from me?
“You know who my mother is,” she says, beginning to struggle again. “I know you know her, because she talks about you all the time.”
“Who? What’s her name?”
“Yvonne,” she says, her childlike voice growing huffy.
“Mrs. Nguyen?” I ask, sitting up straight, forgetting to hold her down. She wriggles around, then sits up and pushes me off. I fall into the snow, too confused to fight her.
“That’s not her name,” she says, jumping to her feet and brushing angrily at her snowy skirt. “But I guess you wouldn’t know that, since you’re not from here. You shouldn’t have ever come back. I’m the shifter princess, and you can’t take it away from me.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” I say, clambering to my feet. “You’re the one who took my shifting away.”
“Good,” she says. “If you got it back, you’d probably say you were the heir, and you’re not. I am. That’s why I can’t let you be a shifter, because then you’ll try to usurp me.”
“I have no interest in ruling anyone,” I say. “Now reverse your spell.”
“No,” she says. “I’m never undoing it. You might change your mind.”
I lunge for her, but she shrieks and twists away. She takes off running, but in a few steps, her clothes tumble to the ground, apparently empty. I search through them, looking for a bird or a frog or something, but she’s vanished as if she were never there at all.
Chapter 13
The next day, I’m up in the trees, stuffing long braids of grasses between the branches of our nests so the chilling wind won’t blow in, when I hear someone calling. My head snaps up, and my heart stammers in my chest. I must have misheard. But then I hear it again, that lilting voice, calling my name. For a second, I remember all the times I heard that voice calling my sister, while I was locked away in my mother’s attic. Before I can sink into the tumult of feelings from that time, I jump up and race across the branches, as reckless as if I could still turn into a tiger and catch myself.
“Stella,” Harmon says, a look of relief sweeping over his upturned f
ace when he catches sight of me. He greets me with a wide smile, his white teeth stark against the dark tan of his skin, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he squints into the harsh winter sun. Laughing, I grab a vine and swing down, throwing my arms around him the second my feet touch the ground.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, pulling back.
“Not happy to see me?” he asks, a teasing sparkle in his ice-blue eyes.
“So happy,” I say, standing on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. “But seriously. Won’t you get in trouble for coming up here? Or…are you here with good news?”
His face clouds, and I instantly regret ruining our moment of happiness.
“Unfortunately not,” he says, stepping out of my embrace but taking my hand. I already ache for more, to press my body against his again, to be closer. I’ve missed him so much, though I try to put it out of my mind. Even when I manage to think of other things, he’s always there, like the sun behind the clouds on a grey day. I need him like a plant needs sun.
“Is it okay for you to be here, then?” I ask. “Won’t my mother say that you’re betraying the pack, or stage a coup while you’re gone?”
“She’s pretty much already done that,” he says. “She’s divided our pack, which is worse than taking it away from me. If they all agreed to follow her, I’d accept it. But the pack is one. It shouldn’t be torn apart this way. I hate to see this happening to them.”
“Don’t packs ever split?” I ask.
“Large ones,” he admits. “But we’re not that big. Not big enough to hold off the shifter attacks if we don’t stand together.”
I sigh in frustration. “I wish there was something I could do.”
He looks at me a long moment, and I know what’s coming before he says it. “There is one thing.”
“Harmon…”
“You’re my mate,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I told you about the prophecy. If we have the mating ceremony, we’ll unite the pack with the shifters. They can’t deny I’m their Alpha then.”
“I’m not sure I’m a shifter anymore,” I whisper, not meeting his eyes.
He slides a hand over the top of my head, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me in for a gentle kiss. “You’re a shifter,” he says with a little smile. “My tigress.”
“But I’m not anyone to the shifters,” I say. “What about that girl they wanted you to marry? The redhead.”
“She’s not even a shifter,” he says. “And you’re my mate. I Chose you.”
“I…I can’t shift,” I tell him. “There’s this girl, she took away my ability to shift.”
He pulls back and looks at me. “Into anything?”
I nod. “She says she’s the shifter heir, that she’ll be their leader. And she’s afraid I’m going to take her place if I can shift.”
“Who?” he asks, looking at me funny.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve seen her in the woods more than once. I think she lives in that lighthouse.”
“There’s no door,” he points out. “No one can get in.”
“She shifts into a bird,” I tell him. “She says she’s Mrs. Nguyen’s daughter.” It’s still hard for me to imagine that the frumpy old cat lady who lived next door all my life is someone’s mother. Someone my age.
“Then she’s a witch, not a shifter.”
“She’s definitely a shifter,” I say. “I’ve seen her shift.”
He looks puzzled. “But the shifter king is your father, and their rulership is passed down familial lines. Is she…your father’s daughter?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, shaking my head. I don’t want to think about my father hooking up with a woman old enough to be my grandmother. But then, that’s not her real form, her real body. She told me as much, that she was just borrowing the body.
“There’s no way,” he says, shaking his head. “They’d have to be married. The shifters won’t take his illegitimate daughter if his real daughter is right here.”
“They might. Elidi is a werewolf, not a shifter. And if I’m not a shifter, and she’s really his daughter…” I break off and shake my head. “And besides, I don’t even know them. I didn’t grow up here.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he says. “You’re the rightful heir. You have royal blood.”
“I don’t want to lead a bunch of shifters.”
“It’s your birthright,” he says. “Whether you want it or not.”
“Well, my father is still their king,” I say. “So it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” he says. “We can unite the valleys.”
I scuff my toe in the leaves, still slushy with snow. “The pack hates me.”
“They don’t hate you,” he says, squeezing my hand. “They’re scared of you. They’ve seen what you can do, and it scares them. But they’ll accept you, if it means the end of the shifter attacks. If it means we can all live in peace.” He pulls me in, cupping my face between his hands. “Be my mate, Stella. I need you.”
I swallow hard. “What if I can never shift again? Now that I know what it’s like, I’ll go crazy if I can’t. And she won’t undo the spell. I’ve asked.”
“I don’t care,” he says. “I loved you before you were a tiger, and I’ll love you after. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
I smile a little, but my heart isn’t in it. “Okay.”
“Right now, it’s enough for me to marry the tiger princess,” he says, still holding my face. He smiles at me, making me meet his eyes. “Your father can introduce you to them, and they’ll get used to you. They’ll love you, too, just like I do. And one day, you’ll lead them, when you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be today.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “I need to talk to that girl again.”
He grins, triumph in his eyes. “We’ll be the best Alphas our packs have ever seen,” he assures me. “I won’t let anyone tear apart our pack. I’m the great uniter, not the divider. And we’re going to make this work. I promise.”
I nod, my throat suddenly tight. He believes in me so hard, more than he should. He believes in what he says, believes things will work out for us, for the good of everyone. If only I could believe it, too.
Chapter 14
Too soon, Harmon has to go back to his pack. As I watch him walk away, my insides twist into knots. Could I really go with him, marry him, and expect everything to work out for the best? Nothing in my life works out for the best, so it’s a little naïve to start expecting it now. But I can’t stand to watch him go. I have to hold onto a tree trunk to keep myself rooted in place, so I won’t run after him, tell him to come back or take me with him.
But I have a feeling that if we went ahead with the mating ceremony, the wolves would not welcome me as readily as he thinks. They’d probably throw us both out, now that my mother has half their loyalty. It would be the proof she needs to show that I’m bewitching him.
*
That night, the snow begins again. It falls quick and steady, huge white flakes that stick on our shoulders and decorate our hair.
In the clearing, Xela stretches out her short arms and spins around and around, head thrown back and tongue out like a child. There is no wind, just the downward rush of white, as if the sky is falling. The others jump around, excited by the prospect of sledding the next day. I can’t help but join in.
“Let’s do a snow dance,” Haven cries, grabbing my hand. I grab Uzula’s, and we make a circle around the fire, dancing and kicking snowflakes and singing off-key. Even Yorn tromps around the circle with us, his weathered face cracking into a rare smile as he holds onto Haven’s other hand. Excitement buzzes through the air, and we stay at the fire until late into the night. Everyone shares their stories of one winter or another.
I only saw snow in Oklahoma a couple times in my life, and what I’ve seen here has been from an upstairs window. This is the first winter I’ll spend here as a free person, able to enjoy things like sledding and snowball figh
ts and all the other things I wasn’t allowed to do when I lived in Mother’s attic.
I wonder what the girl in the lighthouse is doing. Is Mrs. Nguyen—Yvonne, I remind myself—there with her? Is she with her mother, or all alone? I’ve never actually seen Yvonne’s real form. I hope the girl is not alone on this cold night, when I am here enjoying the company of friends. I know what it’s like to be alone, watching from the outside.
Tonight at last, I feel like I might finally be one of them, or at least on my way. For the first time, I think I am beginning to fit. It wasn’t instant, as if I’d come home to my tribe. But now that I’ve been here over a month, I’m falling into their patterns, their lives. The only thing I’m missing is a place in Haven’s collective, a human connection.
If only Harmon could live here with me. If my mother succeeds in becoming Alpha, he could join me. But I know this wouldn’t be enough for him. It wouldn’t make him happy. He’s a leader, and he needs a pack. That’s his nature, his purpose. I should probably do the kind thing and set him free, but I can’t bring myself to do it again. Once was bad enough.
When we get up to leave, the fire is nothing but embers in the ring. Xela pulls us around the circle to say goodbye to Doralice, and I stop in front of her instead of shrinking back this time. I’m not exactly scared of her—I talk to her when I’m preparing food or getting the fire ready for Haven to ignite with a snap of her fingers. But touching the juniper tree still makes my skin crawl.
I take a deep breath and stand straight before her. Xela tweaks one of her branches, says goodnight, and skips away. I reach out my hand and run my fingertips over her needles. “Is that girl in the woods your daughter?” I whisper.
“You are my daughter,” echoes inside my head, and I jump. I forgot how strange it feels to have her speaking there, from inside me.
I swallow and slide my fingers through her needles, as if I’m holding hands with her. “But is she your daughter, too?”
Ghostly Snow: A Dark Fairy Tale Adaptation (Girl Among Wolves Book 3) Page 7